


Of Socks and Busy Bees

by sherloe



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, But mostly cute, Fluff, M/M, PWP, Pet Names, Pure Smut, Rimming, Sherlock Is A Precious Lil Baby, Smut, So Sweet You'll Get A Tootheache, Sock Kink, Sort of Insecure Sherlock, Understanding John, and sex, puns, sort of cracky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-24 13:35:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1607015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherloe/pseuds/sherloe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Do you? Like the socks, I mean."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Socks and Busy Bees

**Author's Note:**

  * For [benschins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/benschins/gifts).



> This was basically just an excuse for me to shove a bunch of my kinks into one smutty oneshot.

John heard the text alert as he was closing the door behind his last patient after his too long day. He rubbed his eyes, relieved that it was over. The day had been hellacious and all he wanted to do was go home, drink a cuppa (or ten), take a nice, hot bubble bath (preferably shared with his mad lover), and collapse into bed after some telly. He pulled his mobile from his pocket and smiled when he read the glowing name on the screen.

Sherlock (1) Message

_I bought something today.-SH_

Well, that was vague. John raised an eyebrow as he tapped in his reply.

_What did you buy?_

_It's a surprise.-SH_

The doctor's eyebrows shot up. That could mean anything from a carton of milk to some weird skin samples to a dubious sex toy.

_Okay...I'm about to leave work. Need me to pick anything up? Was thinking about getting take out._

_We can call in something, just come home.-SH_

And that was all John needed as he shoved his phone back into his pocket and threw his medical gear into his kit before rushing out of the surgery to catch a cab. He didn't know whether to be excited or afraid of what Sherlock had bought, but either way it certainly did not mean he should take his time getting home.

He hailed a cab and fidgeted in his seat the whole ride to Baker Street, tossing some crumpled bills in the direction of the cabbie and rushed into the flat. He threw open the door at the top of the landing and was almost shocked that he didn't hear his own jaw hit the floor when he saw what was greeting him. 

Whatever expectations John'd had vanished from his brain as he looked across the room at the couch and the raven haired man currently inhabiting it. Laying on his stomach with his legs kicking lazily in the air behind him, was Sherlock, wearing absolutely nothing but yellow and black striped socks that were pulled snugly halfway up two muscular, milky white thighs.

Sherlock smiled.

"Oh, hello, John," he said with a semi-seductive grin.

John took a step toward him. 

"Socks."

Sherlock nodded. "Mm, yes, I thought you might like them. I did anyway, they remind me of bees. You know how I love bees, John. Do you? Like the socks, I mean?" 

John answered him promptly by locking the door and rushing across the room, planting a bruising, wet kiss on his soft lips. Sherlock met John's tongue immediately, sliding them together and then letting John plunge into his mouth. Sherlock let out a small moan and shifted up onto his knees and pushed John down onto the couch to straddle his lap. John grabbed his hips and nipped his lip hungrily, causing Sherlock to whimper and wrap his arms around John's broad shoulders. After a few moments, John pulled away to catch his breath, not taking long before he began sucking a trail from Sherlock jaw to his collarbone.

"I'll just...take that...as a 'yes', then," Sherlock panted, holding John's head against his neck. 

John hands traveled from Sherlock's hips to his thighs, thumbing the skin just above where the socks stopped, so close yet so far from his aching cock. The thin man ground his hips into John's, already desperate for friction. John kissed back up to Sherlock's ear bit the sensitive lobe.

"Do you know," he growled,"how fucking gorgeous you are?" He snapped the band of the socks against Sherlock's thighs, who failed to suppress a moan. "And do you know," he moved a hand up to rub roughly over one of Sherlock's sensitive nipples,"what I'm going to do to you?" 

The detective blushed and slipped his hands timidly under John's jumper. "I have a vague idea," he breathed out. 

John nipped lightly at a peaked nipple and gave Sherlock's bum a light pat. He grabbed Sherlock's chin and placed a firm kiss on his lips. "Bedroom. Now," he said, adopting his army voice,"and no touching yourself. That's my job today, do you understand?"

Sherlock whimpered.

John grasped his hips again and helped him stand, kissing across his shoulders and neck as he pushed him gently but firmly to their bedroom. 

Sherlock loved being handled like this. Not being as experienced, and secretly a little insecure in bed (he'd been worried he was being too up front with this whole socks thing...), he almost always preferred John taking control the way that he does in that perfect, assertive but gentle way of his. And John never disappointed.

Sherlock's knees buckled when they hit the side of the bed and he fell back on to the comforter, John following him and placing a kiss on his jaw. "Turn onto your front, love," John muttered. Sherlock suppressed a small moan, realizing what John was about to do, and turned over, spreading his legs. John trailed his finger tips up and down Sherlock's spine, following closely behind with a kiss to each vertebrae, sliding his tongue across scars and freckles and the dimples above the rise of his bum. Sherlock let out a sigh when John's tongue ventured to the crack between his cheeks, licking at the salty perspiration that had formed there. He moved further down, nibbling at the crease where his arse met his thighs, then moved to lick at the edge of his socks, making Sherlock shiver. John suddenly grasped two handfuls of Sherlock's bottom and spread the cheeks, revealing a perfectly clean, pink, quivering hole. He bent his head down and licked lightly from Sherlock's perineum to the cleft of his arse, then sucked wetly on the inside of his spread cheeks on the journey down. He blew cold air over the trail of saliva, making Sherlock buck into the mattress. He circled his tongue around Sherlock's entrance, softly massaging it until the muscle relaxed and opened just enough for John to stick the tip of his tongue in before pressing in a little harder. Sherlock's body wracked against the bed.

"John, oh my god..." he sounded absolutely wrecked, and John hadn't even gotten started. He kneaded the meaty skin and dropped a light kiss onto the swell of Sherlock's arse.

"You need a break?" he murmured, rubbing circles onto the small of Sherlock's back. The younger man was covering his mouth tightly with one hand, his eyes squeezed shut, lungs heaving, cheeks bright red...John could just eat him right up.

Sherlock nodded and opened his eyes. He looked at John, tears of arousal threatening to spill over onto his cheeks. The doctor placed one more kiss at the base of the detective's spine and crawled back up the bed, turning Sherlock to his side and meeting him at eye level.

"You okay?" he asked softly, moving Sherlock's hand from his mouth to kiss each finger tip, then moving down to kiss the palm. 

Sherlock nodded. "Yeah, it's just..."

"Too much data?"

"Something like that," he replied in a shaky voice.

John gave him an understanding look and put his hand on Sherlock's hip, rubbing little half moons into his pale skin. Sherlock had always reacted very intensely to rimming, physically, mentally, and emotionally, so the act never lasted long but it was always phenomenal for both of them.

A couple of minutes later, Sherlock timidly shifted toward John, and pressed their lips together. 

John took his cue and rolled Sherlock onto his back, pausing his new assault of kisses only to shed the rest of his clothing and dumped the offending pieces on the floor. 

"Oh, Sherlock," he sighed and leaned back down to kiss Sherlock on the nose,"you're so bee-yootiful, you know that?"

Sherlock blinked.

"Did you just make a bee a pun. Because I'm wearing bee socks."

John chuckled. 

"May-bee."

"Stop."

"You're supposed to laugh during sex, Sherlock."

"You're not making me laugh, you're making me sick," Sherlock retorted, even though he was giggling.

John eyed him mischievously.

"You've been busy, my pretty little honey bee. You're such a smart, cute, _sexy_ bee, Sherlock. You know that? God, and you have the sweetest honey. Mm? You do know that, don't you?"

Sherlock blushed. This was certainly a different way of accessing his praise kink, but not an entirely bad one. 

"I-I wanted to do something special for you," Sherlock replied as John reached to grab the lube off the bedside table.

"You always make me feel special...but this was an exceptionally great surprise," the doctor murmured against the pale skin on Sherlock's chest as he bent a mile long leg to get to the detective's entrance.

Sherlock gasped as John's index finger slid in to the first knuckle and began to thrust it in methodically, relaxing the tight muscles. He thrust it in a few more times before adding a second digit, scissoring the tight muscles until Sherlock was squirming against the sheets.

"J-John...I'm ready, p-please."

John grinned. "I know, I just love how you look when I have my fingers up your arse and wanting more," he replied nonchalantly before placing a soft kiss on Sherlock's nose. 

Sherlock would've glared if he'd been capable of anything but moaning obscenely.

"Please, John, please," Sherlock whimpered as John pulled his fingers from his body.

"Please, what, Sherlock?" John asked, readopting his army voice.

Sherlock squeezed the base of his cock and bit his knuckles to keep from coming right there. John gave him a moment.

"I'm going to ask you again. Please, what?"

Sherlock sucked in a shaky breath.

"P-please fuck me...Captain." 

John's breath hitched. "You are so brilliant," he said, his voice softer.

Sherlock whimpered and reached up to kiss John sloppily on the mouth.

"Now, I need you inside me, _now_."

John nodded and slicked himself up before leaning over Sherlock, hooking his arms under the younger man's shoulders so he could bury his hands into his soft hair. Sherlock wrapped his sock-clad legs around John's narrow waist, hooking them around the ankles as John lined up with his entrance. 

They both groaned as John breached his body, the mushroom-shaped head only just passing the tight ring of muscles, stretching his rim. He dropped his forehead onto Sherlock's as he slowly slid the rest of his length in until his balls hit Sherlock's bottom.

"Fuck," John muttered against Sherlock's mouth. Sherlock did nothing except wrap his arms around John's strong shoulders and rock up. John groaned and began to move. 

As he pulled out slowly, Sherlock shifted and moved his legs higher up John's back, causing the soft material of the socks to slide across his damp skin, and hell if it wasn't one of the best feelings he'd ever experienced. He moaned into Sherlock's neck and snapped his hips forward, causing the man underneath him to gasp and tremble. 

"God, you feel amazing, Sherlock. Are you alright?" John grunted as pulled back out and slid in again.

"It never feels the same, John," Sherlock sighed between whimpers,"I always feel so much fuller than I expect--" he gasped and bit his bottom lip as John rubbed against his prostate,"--Oh god, oh god, do that again--" 

John angled his hips and aimed directly for Sherlock's prostate, hitting his target spot on.

"JOHN! Oh my god, Johnjohnjohn, don't stop, you feel so amazing..."

Sherlock's babbling trailed off as John fucked into him at a steady and unrelenting pace, reducing him to small moans and whimpers. He reached for Sherlock's cock and gave it a couple of pulls before Sherlock batted his hand away. He was close. John could feel the muscles inside him tightening around his prick, and Sherlock was thrashing beneath him, clawing at his back. John slowed his pace, pulling out of the younger man torturously slow and bent down so that his mouth was beside his ear.

"So beautiful, Sherlock, come for me, love, let me feel you, hear you, see you...god I love this. You're brillia--"

Sherlock threw his head back and came with a shout of John's name, the praise overwhelming him and throwing him over the edge and into ecstasy. His muscles tightened and come coated their stomachs as he emptied himself, the intensity of it allowing John to follow right behind him and empty himself deep into Sherlock. They clung to each other as they came down from their euphoric high, chests heaving against each other, the light of the fading sun streaming through the curtains and reflecting off of the sheen of sweat spread across their naked bodies. 

John reluctantly pulled out of Sherlock, wishing he could stay wrapped inside his warm body, and reached for his discarded underwear, cleaning them up the best he could. He pulled Sherlock onto his side, before kissing his forehead and tucking the head of wild curls under his chin. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John's waist and snuffled into his neck. John stroked Sherlock's thigh, teasing the edge of the sock as their heartbeats regulated and beat in sync. 

"Was great," John muttered into Sherlock's sweat damp hair.

"Mm. I love you, John."

"Love you too, my little bee."

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry about the rimming pun. And all the bee puns. Actually I' really not.
> 
> Thanks for reading and as always, feedback is appreciated :)


End file.
